


Unrequited Human Furniture

by milkysterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Human Furniture, I'm Sorry, M/M, One-Sided Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, One-Sided Relationship, Punishment, Toxic Relationship, Unrequited Love, just bad not good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysterek/pseuds/milkysterek
Summary: “What’s he… doing?” The woman asks, her uneasiness evident in her voice. This is probably a big red flag for her.OrThe one where I write human furniture because my friend isn't into it and I want to make her mad.





	Unrequited Human Furniture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubyredhoodling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyredhoodling/gifts).



> Welcome to another episode of Milky takes a joke too far. In today's episode, we're going to take the trope of unrequited human furniture very seriously and not make it funny at all like we had planned which will ultimately result in Milky being bummed out and needing to binge on fluff for the rest of the day. It isn't even sad or anything I just can't deal with Stiles and Derek not being in a mutually loving relationship. 
> 
> Anyway, here you go JC ;) Also Jamie doesn't want this eaither so ya'll can have it too xo
> 
> Also thanks to Sophie, Yoon and Mizixy for joining in with making JC suffer (I think that was everyone who was in the convo yesterday morning when this was going down. Lemme know if I forgot anyone!). At the end of the day, that's what it's all about.

The musty, old, dust filled scent of Derek’s living room rug floods Stiles’ senses. He doesn’t know where the hell the wolf bought this thing or how he can stand to have it in his house when it smells so bad even to Stiles’ regular human nose. It’s awful and it’s making him queasy but there’s nothing he can do about that right now. Derek told him to stay - so he’s staying. 

Forehead pressed to the carpet and eyes clenched tightly closed, Stiles listens to the ticking clock on the mantlepiece. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, knelt down on his knees with his arms curled up under his chest, only that his legs have started to go numb and he really needs to pee. He’ll just have to hold it; the bathroom’s only at the end of the hall but if he moves he knows Derek will find out and that won’t be good. Stiles has broken enough rules around this place without adding another to the list. 

It’s then that he hears the front door unlock and everything in Stiles freezes. He has to stay still -  _ perfectly _ still. If he doesn’t, he’ll ruin everything. 

The floorboards under Derek’s feet squeak with each step. He’s taking to someone - a woman, Stiles thinks - and there’s a breezy lightness to his voice, a lightness Stiles himself very rarely gets to be on the receiving end of. Stiles can’t see her - can’t see anything, really, what with his eyes being closed and everything - but he’s willing to bet she’s beautiful. Probably tall with rosy cheeks and a nice, round figure that Derek can sink his claws into. That’s something Stiles can never give him and fuck if that doesn’t hurt to think about. 

The conversation halts suddenly and Stiles can hear the woman stumbling over her words. She’s noticed him and is understandably weirded out. After all, when going on a date with a handsome, brooding, twenty something man, you don’t exactly expect to come back to his home and find a slightly younger man curled up under the coffee table pretending to be a foot stool. 

Stiles feels the ground shift right next to his head but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. When Derek speaks, he can tell the man is standing right beside him, probably staring down at him with a look of pure indifference. “Don’t mind that,” He says as if Stiles is nothing. Like he’s an object. 

Well, that’s sort of the point.

“What’s he… doing?” The woman asks, her uneasiness evident in her voice. This is probably a big red flag for her. 

“Nothing,” Derek replies and it’s true, he is doing nothing, but Stiles suspects that isn’t the answer the woman was looking for. Stiles kinda feels sorry for her. Kinda. 

The footsteps move away from him and Stiles is alone again. It’s strange how claustrophobic a person can feel in a wide, open room. Maybe it’s the way he’s curled in on himself that’s bringing on the sensation or maybe it’s how utterly alone and abandoned he feels in that moment. Stiles doesn’t know. He just wants to stand up - and maybe pee. 

He’s too caught up in his own depressing thoughts to notice that Derek has returned before two, strong hands are gripping him by his waist and dragging him out from under the coffee table. Stiles tries to stay as rigid as possible, to hold his position even as he’s being carried but it’s difficult. His legs wobble and shake, wanting to give in to gravity and swing down to the floor. He bites his lip from the exertion of holding himself together. 

Derek places him on the floor again, this time on the hard, wooden boards beside the couch. He hears the sound of Derek and his guest getting seated, his eyes still clamped shut, and prepares himself. Derek’s rarely rough with his possessions and Stiles is no exception to that rule. This thing that they have going is probably a little if not a lot emotionally abusive considering how one sided their love is and how desperate Stiles is to do anything to keep Derek happy, no matter how much he hates it, but the relationship - if you can call it that - has never ventured into physically abusive. Yet, at least. He guesses that’s a good thing. Maybe? 

Anyway, Derek is gentle with him and that goes for right now too. The wolf peels off his shoes revealing sock clad feet and carefully rests them on Stiles’ bony spine. Derek had suggested Stiles should put on a little more weight because his back is uncomfortable for his feet. He’s been trying to eat more but with all the running from hunters and supernatural creatures alike, it’s difficult to get the extra pounds to stick. 

Stiles breathes evenly as Derek and his guest begin to talk again. The floorboards are uneven and could use sanding down; Stiles is running a very real risk of getting a splinter in his nose and oh, how embarrassing that would be. Plus, he isn’t allowed to move or speak - because stools can’t move or speak - so if he  _ did _ get one, he’d have to just stay there and take it.

God, he should have never taken Derek’s car without asking. 

The conversation of the pair continues and Stiles remains put. Now and again Derek rubs his feet on Stiles’ spine that Stiles isn’t sure is meant to be soothing or to remind him to stay in the present, to listen to the words of Derek and his  _ date _ . It doesn’t matter which one it is because they both leave their marks. A warmness spreads up his neck at the thought of being remembered while a cold, sloshing dread lurks in his stomach at being replaced. It’s not a nice mix and Stiles still needs to pee. 

“Look,” The woman sighs and makes to stand; the floorboards in front of Stiles’ bowed head creak under her pressure, “Tonight has been,” She pauses, like she’s searching for the correct word to describe her date using another man as a piece of furniture like that’s something you see every day, “ _ Interesting _ \- but I think I should be going.”

Derek escorts the woman out but not before she can pat Stiles on the back, scorching her touch into his spine. He thinks it’s meant to be an act of reassurance. Maybe she feels sorry for him? Stiles doesn’t know. It’s not like that matters anyway; he brought this punishment on himself. 

When she’s gone and the front door is closed tight, Derek returns to the living room. He hovers for a moment around Stiles’ rigid body, not saying anything just yet, letting Stiles stew in the tension filled silence. It’s awful and uncomfortable and Stiles’ knees  _ hurt _ . All he wants is for Derek to be happy with him but time and time again he fucks up and he ends up back here, curled up on the floor like the  _ nothing _ he is. He hates this. He hates this so fucking much.

“You can get up now,” Derek huffs like this is all somehow amusing to him. It’s weird because Stiles knows the wolf doesn’t find even the slightest bit of humour in any aspect of their companionship. “I said,  _ get up _ .”

Stiles moves like he’s on autopilot, pushing himself up from the floor and stretching out his poor, damaged knees. They ache something terrible and he knows there’ll be purple and blue bruises peppering his skin there tomorrow. It’s hard for him to raise his head, mostly because his neck hurts from having it bent down for so long but also because he doesn’t want to meet Derek’s eyes. Doesn’t want him to see the longing there. The hope that maybe just this once the wolf will take pity on him. 

A finger presses against the bottom of Stiles’ chin and slowly, gradually, raises until Stiles’ is looking at Derek. For a brief moment, he feels a spark of something in the pit of his stomach, something that prickles and burns its way up through his core, heading towards his flushing cheeks. Then Derek rolls his eyes, drops the finger away and turns back to the sofa where he plops himself down, grabbing for the tv remote. Stiles lingers, not knowing what to do or what to say until Derek looks back over at him with a heavy, put upon sigh. “Why are you still here?”

Whatever hope had been clinging on inside the man crumbles to dust and Stiles turns away and makes for the door. The dismissal hurts more than his knees, more than his aching neck and more than if Derek had finally decided to turn violent. He feels stupid and ashamed and so, so mad at himself for ever borrowing Derek’s car keys, even if it was an emergency. He’s stupid - that’s all there was to it and, as he hurries away from Derek’s house and clambers into the front seat of his jeep, he knows fine well he’ll do it all again just to feel that tiny spark of adrenaline Derek’s touch always brings.

**Author's Note:**

> For real though, I actually enjoy this trope when it's like a mutual love thing. Requited. Is that the word I'm looking for? Healthy BDSM is great! The dynamic in this fic? Not so much. I made myself sad. So yeah the next thing I post will probably be fluff. Sweet sweet fluff. And knotting. But mostly fluff. And then after that, I'm posting some married Sterek with protective Stiles because it makes me feel good inside. 
> 
> Come high kick me in the throat on [tumblr](http://milkysterek.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
